In order to celebrate Halloween, I posted one of the viral statuses on facebook. It told my friends to respond with the item to their right as their weapon when attacked by zombies. This inspired me to write this little story for my own amusement. Please enjoy and comment!
I sigh aloud as I scoop more cookies onto the cookie sheet in front of me. I have been baking cookies all day, but with so many guests coming to the Eve of All Hallow's Eve party, I probably won't have enough to keep everyone satiated until the party ends at midnight. The air in the kitchen is heavy with the warmths cascading from the open oven and the heavenly mix of sugar and warm chocolate aromas that rise up from each sheet of cooling cookies. I have put the last batch in the oven when the doorbell begins to ring.
The living room fills up quickly with guests. I barely have time to transfer cookies to plates and potato chips to bowls before the last guest arrives with the zombie movie of the evening. Soon we are all enthralled by the images on the screen. During some gory scenes, I find myself reflexively looking away. It is this happy coincidence that makes me aware of a change in the air around me. Somehow the sweet scent of cookies is slowly being overpowered by some other odor.
I try to be subtle as I lean toward my friend Meriah who sits on my left. The smell isn't coming from her. In fact, she smells like cupcakes. I can't help but inhale again, more deeply. Meriah turns from the television to give me an odd look. I smile and try to look innocent as I lean away from her. After watching me suspiciously for a few more seconds, she returns her attention to the television.
I now lean to my right. Aunt Donna turns to look at me before I can take a good whiff of her. She silently offers me one of her cookies. I shake my head at her. She shrugs and nibbles on the proffered cookie as she looks back toward the television where the zombies have begun pulling the entrails out of one of their victims. She stops nibbling. I lean in for a quick sniff, reassuring myself that the smell is not her.
I am about to lean forward to inspect my next guest when I realize the odor seems to be seeping under the door. A thin mist has been slowly creeping across the floor as the movie progressed. I am the first to notice. I am also the first to notice the shadows ambling across the front porch. I make a quick survey of the room, expecting a few friends to be missing, but everyone is accounted for.
I stand up slowly, jumping over my friend Whitney who is comfortably sprawled across the floor. I realize that I have attracted more attention than I had hoped to during this maneuver, so I smile at my friends and wait for them to look back to the television before opening the door to peer outside. As soon as the door opens, a hoard of figures lurch toward me. Most of them have skin hanging loosely from emaciated flesh. I don't lean in for a better whiff. No doubt remains about the origin of the odor. Each of my uninvited guests has the sickening perfume of death seeping from their rotting pores.
I instinctively raise my hands to cover my face. This does nothing to dissipate the odor. It also does not cause the door to close. The zombies lurch toward the open door and the tempting array of appetizers that I call my friends. I half turn to see my friends arming themselves with whatever is handy. I step back from the door, trying to push it closed, but shock has caused me to stand still for far too long. The zombies have already begun pouring through it.
Meriah grabs the trash can next to the couch and throws it at the zombies. I duck in time to avoid being knocked out and retreat toward my friends. Many of them have already begun moving back toward the kitchen. I feel something warm splash my face as Donna tosses a full cup of steaming coffee toward the open door. It splashes against the face of an advancing zombie. The zombie gurgles a complaint and heads toward her, but Donna jumps onto the couch and over it before the zombie can shuffle close enough to get a good hold on her.
Meanwhile, Whitney has pulled open her purse and pulled out some Alpha Hydrox lotion. She squirts it wildly into the sightless eyes of the zombies as Momma Poling whacks the nearest zombie with a rolled up atlas. This one seems to be in an advanced state of decomposition so this results in the loss of an arm. Emboldened by her success, she wields this weapon proudly as she backs away from the advancing hoard.
Katie has been watching the zombies with a smile on her face for a few minutes. Perhaps, she is remembering a recent zombie walk or expecting some of our other friends to pop out from behind the other zombies to announce “Gotcha”. Whatever has kept her from being afraid is quickly dispelled when one of the zombies puts his hand on her.
“Ew. How did you get your hand so slimy?” She asks, pulling her hand away.
The zombie grunts as best he can with what is left of his vocal chords and reaches for her again. Her eyes widen with fear. She quickly grabs a coffee cup from the nearby table and slams it into the zombie's face. This causes one of his eyes to pop out of its socket. I feel my stomach lurch and see my revulsion mirrored in Katie's eyes as she steps away from the zombie.
Becky H is trying to fend off a particularly active zombie with a pillow when Becky S and her husband come to her rescue. Becky S still has the side mirror from her car in hand following an accident in the parking lot. She brings it down with as much force as she can on the zombie's head. The mirror disappears into its shattered skull. She shakes her hand as if to shake off any bits of zombie flesh that may have splashed onto her hand. Devin attempts to assist his wife by producing a car air freshener shaped like a flip flop from his pocket. Her drops it on top of the downed zombie like a talisman of holding and grabs his wife's hand to pull her away to safety.
Becky H mumbles a thank you as she follows them toward the kitchen. Sandy reaches into her pocketbook in the hopes of finding something that may help us escape. She finds a picture of her son and pauses to look at it. I can see her pondering how this can be of help before she thinks better of it and follows the rest of us into the kitchen.
Everyone is gathered around my friend Jonathan. He is standing at the sink with an industrial size bottle of dish soap. With one last glance into the living room, I reassure myself that everyone else has moved away from the zombie mob.
“Are you the last of the living?” Jonathan says dramatically.
I nod my head, unable to form words as the zombies draw closer and their stench clogs my nose.
“Good,” he says, stepping between me and the zombies and pushing me toward the back door.
“Go out that way. I didn't see any zombies out there,” he says as he begins to pour out the dish liquid onto the linoleum.
“Slick shoes!” I exclaim.
He barely takes time to nod before he directs my attention to the door again. I peer out the window in the door before throwing it open and leading my friends out into the back yard. We cluster together, looking around for any sign of more zombies. I notice that Holly still has the remote in her hand. She is nervously clicking the off button as everyone looks at me questioningly.
“What should we do?” Tami asks as her dog Scooby begins growling at the back door.
I look at the door, letting my breath out slowly as Jonathan comes out the door.
“I think that should keep them busy for a while,” he says with a smile.
“Yes, but what should we do?”
“Someone should go in and kill them,” Will says reasonably.
“Who? With what?” I frown at him.
“My wife could do it,” Will says.
“You're not sending me in there,” Michelle says, punching him softly on the arm.
“Don't worry. I know what to do,” Sara says quietly.
We all turn to look at her. She smiles and holds up a thin paperback book.
“I think I accidentally created them while I was reading this book. If I read this next chapter to them, it'll destroy them.”
“It's worth a try,” I say with a shrug.
Everyone else nods hopefully. Sara steps back into the kitchen. We can hear her reading slowly to the zombies for a while. Now and then, a grunt or moan interrupts her, but after five minutes, no more noises come out of the house. I look around to see if anyone else is willing to go scope out the situation for me. It doesn't take more than a glance to show me that the owner of the house is expected to risk her life by reentering the house. I stop on the threshold, taking a deep breath before peering inside.
Sara is down on her hands and knees on the floor with a bucket of water. The only sign of the zombies is a thin puddle of slime on top of the puddle of dish soap.
“What happened?” I almost don't hear my timid voice.
I am about to repeat my question, but Sara heard me.
“I came in and they were all sprawled out on the floor. They couldn't get up without sliding again, so they were moaning and a couple of them were attacking the others. I read the chapter to them and as I finished, they started to melt into this slime. I thought I should clean it up since it was my fault.”
“So they are gone?”
“Yes.”
“And the book?”
“I'll get rid of it, don't worry.”
I nod and go back out to tell the others.
